Chapter Sixteen #2
That bump of her hip against his had been deliberate after all, he realized, meant to shove him away from the door, toward the staircase to the left that likely led to a number of rooms upstairs.
He was shielded further now by the wall which separated the stairs from the tavern floor and provided a modicum of insulation from the noise within the room below to the rooms upstairs.
And he could do nothing. Nothing but to watch through the sliver of space available to him as she made her way toward Cooper’s table, drinks upon the tray in her hand.
There was a shout curling up his throat, but to loose it would be to ruin her.
Instead he swallowed it down and breathed sharply through his nose, hoping and praying she would make it out the other side of this little fiasco reputation—and life—intact.
Her uncle was going to have his head. And he—he was going to have that luscious arse beneath the flat of his hand for this affront. His palm tingled with the anticipation of it already.
Henry couldn’t hold a damn thought in his head but her as he waited for her safe return, waited interminably long moments as she slid two drinks onto the table.
His blood flashed hot in his veins as he watched Cooper flip a coin in his fingers and slide it between her bountiful cleavage, then sent her off again with a pat on the bum.
His breath slipped from his lungs on a wave of stark relief. Somehow, by the grace of God or some other such miracle, she hadn’t been recognized. And at long last she began to wade back through the thick of the crowd, tray tucked beneath her arm down at her side.
The very moment she’d come near enough to grab, he seized her wrist in the manacle of his fingers, pulling her to him so swiftly that she dropped the empty tray, which made no more than a muted thump that could hardly be heard above the raucous chatter.
She squeaked in surprise as he thrust her up against the wall by the stairs. Henry obscured her from the other patrons with the breadth of his shoulders, leaned down into her face to growl, “Have you lost your damned mind?”
A short huff as her lips pursed. “Henry—”
“What the hell were you thinking, coming here tonight?”
“I came to stop you from doing something foolish.”
“Says the woman dressed as a serving wench,” he gritted out between the clench of his teeth. “For Christ’s sake, Grace, he dropped a penny down your damned gown.”
“It was tuppence, I’ll have you know.” A little shift of her shoulders, which thrust those glorious breasts up further. “He was never going to sell it to you,” she said. “Cooper, I mean to say. I’ve been eavesdropping for the last hour—”
“An hour!”
“Keep your voice down!” Grace hissed. “Just because it’s loud doesn’t mean someone isn’t listening.” She took a swift, sharp breath. “The deal is already done,” she said. “Cooper was never going to sell to you, no matter what you offered. He’s got your uncle dangling upon a string.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It’s why he didn’t offer the evidence to you first,” she said in a rushed little voice.
“If he had, it would only disappear. But your uncle must use it to get what he wants. It means Cooper has got a thousand pounds from him—and an earl’s weight with whatever matters he might require.
Cooper knows too much, could cast too much doubt upon the evidence your uncle would need to present to claim your title.
So he’s got your uncle in the very palm of his hand, ripe for the manipulation.
He’s spent the last hour explaining as much to him. ”
Christ. Money and favors. Grace had been right all along; his plan had been doomed from the start, for he’d had no reason—nor the inclination—to offer the same.
Of a certainty Cooper intended to extract the value of far more than one thousand pounds from Uncle Nigel.
Probably well beyond even the two thousand Henry had been prepared to offer.
He needed to think, and quickly.
He couldn’t fucking think worth a damn with those magnificent breasts so prominently displayed.
Henry lowered his voice to a feral rumble. “You are going to tell me how I would most effectively pick my uncle’s pocket—and then you are going to walk out the door and straight to my carriage on the street. Where you will damned well stay until I return.”
“Henry, I can’t teach you to become a pickpocket in a few minutes. It’s a skill that takes months to master. Years, for some.”
Goddamn it all. Her nose hadn’t twitched. She was telling the truth.
“And besides,” she added, “you can’t risk coming so close to your uncle.”
“I’m damned well not going to let you do it!”
She uttered a rueful little laugh. “Don’t you think I would have already tried, if I were capable of it?
It’s not a page folded up and tucked in his pocket,” she said.
“It’s a leather-bound book; a large one.
And Cooper is presently sitting upon it.
It would be impossible for me to retrieve it without his notice. ”